Harry Potter & the legacy of the Dungeon Lord: Bob
by Kingdark
Summary: Harry meets the Dungeon Lord after he saw the genocide of his race. Bob has no choice but to pass his status on to HP leaving only Yoda his Imp of knowledge as his legacy. Five years later Harry will hunt the one that killed his people: GEK
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Harry potter Dungeon Monk**  
>Category: Books » Harry Potter<br>Author: Kingdark  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: M<br>Genre: General, fantasy, sci-fi  
>Warning: The first part is about an OC. Once that part has passed he won't be mentioned again except (maybe) in passing.<p>

THERE MAY BE THINGS IN THIS STORY THAT OFFEND YOU. BOB'S OPINION THAT WOMEN ARE ONLY GOOD TO CLEAN UP, PLEASE HIM AND AS BABY FACTORIES IS _**NOT**_ I REPEAT IS _**NOT**_ AN OPINION I SHARE. I DO NOT AGREE WITH THE IDEA OF A HAREM AND I AM ALL FOR MALE/FEMALE EQUALITY.

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

Harry Potter and the legacy of the Dungeon Lord

Summary: Harry meets the Dungeon Lord after he saw the genocide of his race making him the only Dungeon Monk alive any time, any place and everywhere. The Dungeon Monk, being as weak as he is, has no choice but to pass his status on to an untrained young wizard leaving only his Imp of knowledge as his only legacy. After spending five years in Bob's localized dimension which is only five minutes in real time, Harry has a new mission: hunt down that bastard that calls himself GEK!

The character GEK comes from a certain long crossover story. It has over 390.000 words and is written by VexMaster if that is not a hint I don't know what is. The cross will be minimal at this point though because at this point, GEK is the bad guy. If VexMaster reads this story he may work with me to make GEK speak and act like the real thing (aka as if it was written by VexMaster

**Final read / proof check done on 23/03/2012**

Chapter one

Bob had been a Dungeon Lord for well over ten thousand years and that was only an average age for his race. Bob was a Dungeon Lord because he had 'inherited' his power from the Dungeon Lord before him. He had inherited his power and Yoda the Imp before he had killed his mentor in cold blood.

Only a Dungeon Lord -Bob in other words- could choose a new Lord when the time was right. The power that Bob had inherited from the previous Dungeon Lord actually prevented him from referring to himself as a Dungeon Monk.

Bob had learned many things in the many decades that he spend with the Dungeon Lord as the future Dungeon Lord. Some of he most important bits that Bob would bash into whoever would inherit his power would be the following:

a) All dungeon monks had to obey the Dungeon Lord. That did not mean they couldn't betray you. 

b) A Dungeon Lord can either breed to produce more dungeon monks or he can give the future Dungeon Monk a tiny bit of his 'spark.' This procedure is VERY dangerous for both the Dungeon Lord and the Dungeon Monk. 

c) Dungeon monks and lords could live for thousands of years this did not mean that a Dungeon Monk or lord was immortal or invincible. 

d) A Dungeon Monk or lord could _**only**_ be a male. 

e) A Dungeon Lord had a rival of equal power to balance his power out. 

f) A Dungeon Lord could only 'give' a spark once every six months and then six months would be added onto it. This meant that after ten dungeon monks were chosen the Dungeon Lord would have to wait five years before he could chose a new one. If he didn't chose a new monk after five years then the next one could be chosen in four and a halve years. If he didn't chose one again then four years later he could pick a new one. This would continue until he got back to six months.

A Dungeon Lord did not have any limits in creating biological heirs. They would not inherit his title of Dungeon Lord and could only become a Dungeon Monk IF they had the spark and could activate it.

Bob was just over ten thousand years and he still looked like he was in his early fifties when he was in his natural form. Dungeon monks and lords weren't all that different in that aspect. Both could live for a very long time. Something that his mentor that taught him was the fact that it didn't matter that you could destroy entire armies with a thought if you let your power corrupt you. It was for this reason that dungeon lords and monks by extension had their own natural rivals (enemies) that rivalled them in power and ability.

This enemy and the Dungeon Lord balanced each other out and were meant to keep each other in check. The rival of the Dungeon Lord also happened to be a female. Always. The Dungeon Lord and this enemy didn't** have** to be enemies. They could be allies, friends or even lovers though a child could never happen.

The official title of the Dungeon Lord his rival was phantom Queen. The death and rebirth of a Dungeon Lord or phantom queen ALWAYS occurred at the same time. Always with no exceptions.

The Queen had the same abilities that Bob had. She could 'activate' the spark in those she chose. And just like Bob the procedure was dangerous and would increase her 'charging time' by six months each time. Just like Bob she had no limits in how many children she could bring into the world.

Bob's rivalry with the current queen was especially violent. He had tried for decades, centuries even to repair or at least bring their relationship into 'neutrality' with no success. The bitch hadn't made an appearance in centuries and his made wary. It was for this reason that he was travelling back to his 'country' he had crafted over his long life. His 'country' actually was a number of closely related personal dimensions so closely linked that it seemed like one big country at first glance. This country wasn't located in any dimension or reality. It wasn't even located in a galaxy. His country was located outside of time. Time passed of course, linked to a number of realities where time passed just as quickly.

Bob had created more then his own share of new dungeon monks if only to keep the older ones in check. These dungeon monks were very loyal to him. He had given them the spark, taught them what they needed to know and then cut them loose. He had chosen his dungeon monks carefully though. Six months wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things but he still could create only one Dungeon Monk every time.

Another solution was of course to create a biological son... Or many of them. The downside was that it would take many years before his son was old enough to be taught. Any daughters he had were taught how to defend themselves but they were normally always married off to other Dungeon Monks. Bob could and had created whole harems to please him. Sometimes just to use them as baby factories, to take care of the babies while they were too little to do anything other then crap, eat and sleep and finally to clean up. It was all they were good for in Bob's humble opinion.

Usually he impregnated several women so he could teach whole classes ten years later. He tended to lose interest quickly though. Bob thought it was a small price to pay. Give him a son and please him whenever he got into the mood in exchange for unlimited luxury and anything she would want.

There was actually a reason for the fact that time increased by six months every time he created a new Dungeon Monk. To 'give' the spark to anybody was very dangerous. It exhausted even the strongest of Dungeon Lords. It took six months to recover the raw amount of power that it took to transfer the spark to the future Dungeon Monk.

The raw amount of power required to 'give' or 'share' the spark doubled every time he created a new Dungeon Monk. The time was meant to a) let him recover and b) give him time to grow stronger so he wouldn't kill himself if he tried to create another Dungeon Monk.

Other Dungeon Monks could create Dungeon Monks on their own. But only through breeding. Bob's mentality to women wouldn't be accepted by many. But at least he could say he never abused them. He never hurt them and always tried to please them as much as they pleased him.

The punishment if you abused your women was a hundreds years of being able to get as horny as you get but unable to get 'it' up. If they broke the rule again within a century they would be forcefully de-aged into toddler's age so they could be re-educated as to why abusing women was a big NO NO.

If this still didn't help and the Dungeon Monk kept at it, Bob would take drastic measures, block eighty percent of the dungeon monk's power shape-shift him into a female form and then drop him off in an SM whore house. The moment the Dungeon Monk learned his lesson he would be out of there.

Once the new Dungeon Monk had completed his training he would be cut loose, given a few directions to a couple of interesting dimensions and then send on his way. Most rookies spend their few centuries mastering their power and gathering 'awesome' powers followed by the creation of their own very secret dimensional stronghold where they ruled supreme... Unless Bob happened to visit. These dimensional strongholds were essentially fortresses by themselves. Very difficult to find let alone to attack.

The oldest dimensional strongholds had dozens of families living within with hundreds of servants, three time that many minions and ten times that number in soldiers. Other dimensional strongholds had hundreds of families living within with countless of servants, soldiers and allies protecting it.

Since Bob was the Master of all dungeon monks he knew of every dimensional stronghold they created, every dimension or reality they visited and all the bits of knowledge they learned and Yoda didn't know was recorded.

Bob could allow himself to be connected even more deeply then he already was. But he felt that was too close to stalking. He hadn't checked in on them for a few decades and felt it was time for a few surprise visitations.

You can't imagine his incredible surprise when he finds the outer cities in ruins with nothing but corpses and smoke. Finding the vaults empty and all weapons and valuables gone angered Bob to the point he could barely contain his power.

Why hadn't he heard their distress call? Why hadn't they warned him? Why hadn't Yoda said anything to him?

'Yoda!' Bob snapped.

The immortal Imp appeared with a loud snap. Unusual because he normally arrived soundlessly.

'Master!' The imp groaned. "Finally, I thought you would never call upon me! Have you broken the curse that stopped you from thinking of me and blocks or makes you ignore your connection to-" Yoda paused when he finally took note of his location.

The moment that Yoda had uttered those words, the curse was broken. It's power was based on the fact that Bob was unaware of it. Now that he knew it could not exist any more. Immediately after, Bob sensed hundreds of distress calls. With dozens being silenced abruptly. Bob had fought many wars in his time. He had been given hundreds of summon able minions he only summoned when it was really needed. His huge army of minions was one of the reasons why he was respected and feared. He was by all means a literal one man army. One that could slaughter whole armies with ease on top of that fact that his summoned minions were very powerful by themselves.

'**Attention to all dungeon monks: the curse that prevented me from hearing you has been broken. Help will arrive momentarily. Don't lose hope.'**

Bob closed his eyes and connected with the hundreds if not thousands of minions he had available.

'COME!' He ordered them. Immediately after monsters, warriors, Mages and adventurers alike began popping in.

Bob closed his eyes to concentrate on his connection that he had with the dungeon monks. Many 'cities' were already lost. He send orders to those dungeon monks to evacuate to more secure cities and to make a stand there. Immediately after he began sending his minions to the cities that were being abandoned. His minions couldn't be killed. Not really. They were connected to him. They could be destroyed but it would take them a few days to a few hours to recover back to full power.

Even with all the minions he had send to help he still had a huge amount left.

'Go to my capital city. Dig in. Reinforce the wards. Look for possible traitors, beacons or anything unusual.' He ordered them.

'Go!'

Bob immediately checked on the cities that were already lost and concluded that their vaults were raided and emptied completely. He followed that up by checking on the cities under siege only to find several vaults being emptied. He slaughtered the attackers with relative ease, relocated the remaining treasure to his own personal vault and followed the portal to see where it led.

The moment he arrived he found himself being aimed at by hundreds if not thousands of enemy soldiers. Bob didn't seem impressed. "I'm going to give you a single chance to bring me to your leader. I want to know why he attacked my country unprovoked. Failure to comply will result in your death."

The soldiers didn't think a second about his ultimatum. They opened fire. Bob already suspected that response and had been prepared. He already was in a different location and had dropped hundreds of powerful bombs in the crowd. They exploded violently killing hundreds of soldiers instantly with at least ten times that many that had injuries going from lethal to a simple bruise.

Bob continued to slaughter the small army until nobody was left. He searched the place carefully then left when he concluded that all his valuables were already gone.

Bob emptied all other vaults and placed them in his own. After checking and rechecking its protection and security. Only he would be able to enter it. Anyone even attempting to probe, scan or anything of the sort would be attacked violently alert him immediately.

Bob noted idly that the attackers had began retreating once his people organized themselves. It was either that or they had received orders to fall back. He wouldn't let that happen though. Bob concentrated and a dozen of weaker versions of him separated and vanished immediately after. Each weak version of him appeared in the middle of the retreating enemy and began slaughtering them without mercy.

There would be no mercy for the unprovoked attack.

His weaker selves had been given the order to let the highest ranking officers live. They would be forcefully interrogated. His weaker selves completed their mission, drained the officers of all knowledge then mercifully killed the officers in one blow.

X

Now that his people were no longer panicking, Bob wondered if his rival was under attack as well. There was not a single doubt in his mind that it had been his rival that had attacked him. She knew that if she attacked him this way he would strike back with equal if not more force. They would fight and eventually they would end up in a tie.

It was the way of things. Neither could defeat the other.

His people were retreating to cities that hadn't been attacked. His gut told him that this attack was meant to be quick and undetected by him. Since he had detected it, the enemy had to have a back up plan.

"To all dungeon monks: once you have settled in, begin digging in. I want our remaining cities to be fortresses. Wards upon wards upon wards. Summon your allies. Summon your soldiers. Call in every favour you are owed. We have been bloodied this day. We will return the favour a hundred in its intensity. Bob out."

Bob had a feeling that this enemy wanted to gather the keys to open THAT vault that he had sealed for good reason. It held such powerful items that it would make his power look like an ant. It had even been serious enough to make his rival agree to work with him on this. That should tell you something. To get a clue to where it was you needed hundreds of keys to just unlock the merest hints. You needed hundreds more to know what vaults to unlock. What time lines to visit. It's security was immense. This GEK bastard was coming closer then he was comfortable with.

While the sealed items within the sealed vaults were very powerful artefact it extracted a heavy price of the user. It would condemn the user for an eternity of everlasting torture should the user ever die. Bob had never considered himself arrogant, and he knew that he was strong enough to wipe out whole armies with relative ease. But even he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep that up for long. He required rest after intensive use of magic. Not just a few hours of rest but weeks, months or even years in order to recover his power.

Time was his ally and his biggest weakness all at the same time. He would grow stronger with every second if he was at full power. But once he expended even the weakest spells would result in a few hours of rest. The weaker he was the faster he would recover. The closer he was to full power the slower his his recovery would be as a result.

One thing bothered him a lot though. How had the enemy invaded his cities so easily? Even the smallest cities had hundreds of monks and even the weakest monk was powerful enough to stand against an army.

X

Six months.

Six months had passed fighting a war he had thought he could win. He was wrong. The two dozen cities he had left had been reduced to six. While they had been taken, the enemy had paid with blood for every street, block and county they took. Bob had chosen after careful deliberation to make his stand now. The six 'cities' left were the most valuable and could be defended the easiest.

If the enemy had one advantage that outdid anything that Bob's allies had to offer it would be numbers. The enemy would throw _thousands_ of soldiers, machines of war at the wards for hours on end.

From what little that Bob managed to find out, the leader had an ability similar to him. He could travel to any reality he knew off. A world of fiction he knew in his world could be a world of reality somewhere out there. The man had used those worlds to improve himself. Make himself stronger. Tougher. Smarter. Bob knew that something had to happen though. Tough wards or not, very defensible positions or not, a war could not be won on the defence.

Bob had lost hundreds of monks. Experienced monks. While their knowledge was available to Yoda, because Yoda was connected to him and Bob was connected to every monk alive. Everything they knew, Yoda knew. No knowledge was lost but valuable experience was.

Many of their remaining dungeon monks were tired. They expelled magic faster then they could recover. Not only that but they couldn't keep resting. All the remaining monks were needed to keep the wards in top condition. They had lost an entire front when they had decided to let those wards weaken just a tiny bit.

The enemy had taken advantage of it faster then they had been able to compensate. Even with his awesome power he wouldn't be able to turn the tide. The few spies he had in his rival's kingdom it had been under attack as well. He had received no request for aid. Something he had fully expected. It would be too late now anyway.

The Dungeon Monk that were the most exhausted were send to the capital. Those that managed to recover at least somewhat were send back to the front. Bob knew that sooner or later he would have to use his secret weapon. His ace in the hole so to speak.

His elite. His guard. Those few that he had chosen to 'uplift' and had trained for centuries, carefully raising those children to be loyal to him but not mindless loyalty. Bob had seen what could happen to fanaticism. If convinced that his or her loyalty was wrong then all of its knowledge would be turned against him. While unlikely to happen it was still an option. That was why he had chosen to try and really earn their friendship.

He had gotten a mix of both. Something far more... Risky to say the least.

Bob returned back to his earlier thoughts. A war couldn't be fought on the defence. How it was going now wasn't an option either. Could he risk retreating to the capital? It still wasn't his own personal dimension because _**that**_ was an absolute last resort. Call him selfish but he wanted to keep people out of the only place where he could let go the restraints on his power.

Bob could either retreat to the capital, giving his exhausted monks a real chance to rest. It would make the capital a really bad place to attack. A siege would likely take decades.

Or he could mobilize everyone and charge. Take the fight to them. Force them to redeploy units and make them confused.

"I've decided." Bob said to himself. "I can't risk sending all of my people out. I'll just ask for volunteers. If they can setup resistance cells and hit and run attacks it might lay of some of the pressure..."

Six months later...

His hands were tied. He had no choice but to gather all of his forces into one location. The few expedition forces he had deployed had been found and slaughtered. Somehow the enemy could track them down using technological means.

Bob knew that he had very few choices left at this point. Right now their stronghold was impenetrable. It would give them time. He had visited the wing where the few surviving Dungeon Monks babies, toddlers and children were located. Bob could scatter them in every direction. Seal their powers away and teach them how to use those powers once they had matured. The fact remained that they would still grow up very slowly. It would make them unique and easy to track down.

No. that wasn't an option.

Could he kill them? The fathers wouldn't be happy with him and might try to betray him. Try being the key part because they couldn't. The children couldn't even be brainwashed in obeying their orders. The very power that they had would commit suicide rather then allowing the enemy control over one of their own.

In the end the decision had been made for him. The enemy attacked and so did a number of traitors among the non Dungeon Monk and the Dungeon Monk adults. The Dungeon Monks died immediately because of their betrayal and caused the rest of their rebellion to fail. But it had been enough. The wards were weakened and so were the defences.

Bob tried to re-establish the wards to full strength but it was too late. The enemy had a foothold and would be able to drop more and more enemies into their stronghold. Bob had no choice but to lead the survivors to his personal stronghold. It held the majority of the keys and items needed to unseal THAT VAULT. His personal stronghold took the definition of a stronghold and took it beyond the regular rules. It held eighty percent of his personal forces and his personal experiments.

Despite everything, Bob was a selfish man. He hadn't wanted to throw his personal troops into the fight. But now he was forced to do it anyway.

A year later.

Two years after the beginning of the war

For one year his people had been allowed to rest and recover. His personal stronghold guaranteed their protection and enough time to rest. Bob had spent a huge amount of the resources he and the Dungeon Lords had gathered in their time. You never know just how expensive funding a war is until you are the one doing so. Bob had hired mercenary groups to commit to hit and run attacks all over the place.

The results were immediate and predictable. The invading armies were being partially recalled and the enemy spend a lot of time and resources reinforcing their positions.

Their reaction had confirmed something for him though. This so called 'God Emperor' commanded an empire bigger then Bob's nation. But not even he could fight a war on several fronts. Low level spies had told him that he wasn't the only war the 'empire' was committed too.

That confirmed again what this God Emperor was after. The items that he had sealed in THAT vault. One year was enough for Bob to recover with some of the strongest of his Dungeon Monks. The enemy would learn why dungeon monks were so feared when angry.

Fifty years later...

Bob groaned when he received another report that another cell had been found and slaughtered. For fifty years he had fought a losing war against HIM. The self proclaimed God emperor. The arrogance of his alone was enough to make him puke. The fact remained that they were closing in on his stronghold. It had changed into a busy city. A capital city. Literal walls of thick powerful wards protected and made them virtually invisible to the enemy. Unless they knew exactly where to look it would be impossible to find his new city.

Fifty years of constant war had pushed even Bob's seemingly limitless resources to the test. The constant wages that he had to pay for those mercenaries to obey him was bad enough. But the amount of resources he had to use to keep the area safe that held the ward stones was at least two times as expensive.

Ward stones were the very source of any type of ward and highly difficult, dangerous and expensive to create. Ward stones were typically buried beneath the ground, surrounded by traps and other defences. Often they were buried deep beneath existing structures so that these had to be eradicated first before they could even begin and try and locate the ward stones themselves.

Bob not only had to pay to keep the traps in perfect condition but also for the alarms and for the wards themselves. The constant 'passing' of local citizens drained the wards constantly and naturally that meant that the wards required a constant amount of power to stay in top condition.

It was when Bob was away on a highly dangerous mission that would hopefully allow them to go on the offensive for a change. That had been the stupidest thing he could've done. This was the stupidest thing he could ever have done. When Bob returned home he found that the wards were nearly broken. The enemy had known where his stronghold was and had been waiting for him to leave. Bob charged the wards to their maximum power. He could feel the incredible anger of the enemy commander when he realized that Bob had returned already. That anger changed into something else that Bob couldn't identify for a moment.

Then the wards imploded. It meant that they simply stopped working.

Bob had a split second to realize this fact.

**'Dungeon monks we are being invaded! This shall be our last stand. For too long have we been on the defensive, let them come and break their teeth on our power! DUNGEON MONKS CHARGE!'**

The invading army thought it had reached victory. When they were met by only a few dozen defenders they scoffed and charged like a nest of ants attacking an invading insect. Had they been normal soldiers they wouldn't stand a chance in hell. These were dungeon monks though and Dungeon Monks were compared to Gods on occasion.

Ten thousands of soldiers died in an instant. Hundreds of more fell to the ground with dangerous injuries only to die seconds later because they were trampled by their fellow soldiers. The dungeon monks didn't stop there and truly let loose. All over the capital city the same thing happened. When the initial invading army was eradicated the dungeon monks thought they had won, only to see new enemies appearing but in even higher numbers.

The Dungeon Monks kept slaughtering every army they send in while Bob and his strongest of his elite were trying to set up new wards only to fail for some reason.

The battle kept going. No matter how many they apparently killed more would take their place. The enemy pressed forward while even dungeon monks were forced to fall back.

In the end, Bob was forced to empty his vault again and keep the items with him. He and what was left of his dungeon monks along with soldiers were preparing to flee. They had prepared tons of explosions that would destroy the entire army in their old capital.

Bob and the dungeon monks scattered. They had decided that sticking together wasn't a good idea at this moment. They would dedicate themselves to attack the enemy with hit and run attacks and do as much damage as possible.

Only Bob remained three of his elite. The best of the best. His strongest and closest friends.

X

Once Bob and his three friends were sure they were far away from any fight they allowed themselves to relax just a tiny bit. It was the next morning that they were confronted with yet another issue that none of them had expected.

Bob's power was telling him a new Dungeon Lord had to be chosen. His own power was rebelling against him. His friends told him they would die with him. There would be only one Dungeon Lord and no dungeon monks when he chose his heir and Bob had already chosen. Or rather his magic had chosen for him.

X

His magic had chosen Harry Potter. A young wizard that had the potential, natural raw power and the charisma and leadership that was needed for a Dungeon Lord to be successful. Bob used some time to examine the boy's natural time line. Once he knew what would happen with no interference he would decide when to interfere himself.

Bob knew that the moment they met, Harry's power would begin growing very quickly. It was to prepare him for the raw power that a Dungeon Lord had available to him. It would teach him how to control his power.

With GEK hunting Bob and all the remaining dungeon monks the slow ageing of a Dungeon Lord would be very unusual. This would also activate the moment they met. This meant that Bob couldn't visit the boy when he was younger or even take him away from his aunt's home before she found him.

Bob couldn't visit personally. His dungeon monks could though. With few subtle cast curses young Harry's life would be far more comfortable then it would have been if nobody had interfered.

"You could gift young Harry with the power to change his appearance." Yoda offered. "It would stop him from getting any other powers for a long time but it would be worth it."

Bob could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he thought about doing that with the Dungeon Monk babies before they were killed?

Bob would visit Harry, let his power grow and then at his eleventh birthday, the day where he would go and learn to control his power at this magical school he would pick him up and gift him with the power to alter his shape into whatever he wanted to be. It would allow young Harry a chance to study the wizarding world's politics and give him the choice of what sort of friends he wanted.

Bob couldn't resist the urge to meddle some more though. The magical and 'normal' worlds were two sides of he same coin. The magical side got stuck in their development while the 'normal' side flourished. This called for a bit of alterations in their past.

X

Bob could pretty much do anything he wanted when it came to travelling the multi verse. Only a Dungeon Monk, his rival and a few more powerful beings could navigate it flawlessly by instinct. His interfering with time lines did have one big flaw.

For example, let's say you have time line A. He changes something in time line A to have something more to his liking. Time line A continues as if nothing had happened and time line B is the one where Bob interfered. If something goes wrong in time line B and he goes back to change that then B continues without change but time line C isn't.

To put it in easier terms: the moment he did something, or changed something, a new time line was created immediately. The time line where he made the changes would continue as if nothing had happened at all.

X

**Now we switch to Harry's point of view.  
>By the end of that the 'real' story will begin.<strong>

X

Harry Potter was stubborn. This was a fact in his live at the Dursley's. His relatives knew it and he knew it. No matter what his aunt and uncle tried he did not break. He did not show weakness. He did not allow himself to feel any emotion when his aunt and uncle -or both- were in a bad mood. They had never really hurt him though. The occasional smack if he really misbehaved but aside from that they left him alone.

For his aunt and uncle he was nothing but an unwanted guest. Someone they couldn't get rid off legally. They would know because they had tried more then once. They had tried to leave him at an orphanage only to find him back at their doorstep the next morning. Since it was obvious that they couldn't get rid of him legally they settled for verbal abuse instead.

When he was seven years old Harry had learned an important rule in his life.

'Do not show weakness to either his aunt or uncle.'  
>'Do not cry.'<p>

'Do not ask questions.'  
>'Obey any orders given by his aunt or uncle.'<p>

Harry had learned early that he could interpret their orders in his own way. He would mess up in ways they couldn't blame him for. It had taught Harry the art of being subtle, sneaky and how to tell a half truth. More importantly it had taught Harry when to recognize a half truth being told to him.

Somewhere in the next year Harry learned another rule that was important.

'Respect is not given but it is earned.'

'Refer to aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon as 'Ma'am' and sir in private. Do not refer to them as such at all in public if he could help it. If given no other choice he could call them 'aunt' or 'uncle in public.'

After watching a movie marathon with his cousin, Harry amused himself by fooling around a bit. He tried to mimic the meditation that was mentioned. Harry had purchased the book version of the star wars films after he had watched them so he knew stuff that wasn't mentioned in the films.

Harry had been trying -and failing- to built a toy from LEGO that had been a gift for Dudley.

When he tried again at a hunch to built it while he was meditating he couldn't believe his eyes when he held the finished product in his hands along with several other repaired toys that had been discarded.

Harry kept practising and by his ninth birthday he could settle himself into a state of meditation in seconds.

Unfortunately that was just about the end of it when he was meditating. He could built and repair something through his meditation and he knew where everyone was and what they were doing.

X

"I want you to clean those gardening tools and then I want you to repair them once they are cleared of any rust. I will take you with me to the local do-it-yourself'' store to get the tools required. If you can make yourself useful and can repair those gardening tools, I will sponsor you for a permanent subscription for the public services and the library so you can expand your studies. I will not tolerate you having bad grades."

X

Harry cleaned the tools with the products he was given, sharpened the tools that were dull and tried to repair the grass cutter only to find he couldn't. Whenever he fell into his meditating stance it gave him a 'error' message. Harry realized that he couldn't repair something if he didn't know what was wrong with it. So he rented a few books from the library and began studying.

Harry was lucky that it was the summer vacation. He had plenty of time to study and try to repair it. Vernon had apparently realized that while Harry could fix the simpler stuff, a grass cutter wasn't by any means 'simple.' Vernon had bought himself a new grass cutter but his orders remained the same. Repair the grass cutter.

Even with constant studying, Harry knew that it would be impossible to fix it before the beginning of September. Since Vernon hadn't given him a deadline Harry took his time to study his books to try and understand more of mechanical machines.

Harry studied every book he could get his hands on. He really enjoyed taking things apart to see how it worked. Putting it back together correctly was oh so satisfying. He had convinced his aunt and uncle to buy him more advanced tools as well as a few cheap kits for him to experiment with. Harry got what he wanted from them: several kits to help him learn.

Harry's power was already growing quickly as shown by the fact he could repair toys that were broken beyond repair. Since Harry didn't really want to repair the grass cutter he didn't.

X

End

X

That's it! Eleven pages. This is the final version of chapter 1. Next chapter will be only five full pages. This way I have three chapters in reserve.

Kingdark


	2. Chapter 2

Title: **Harry Potter and the legacy of the Dungeon Lord**  
>Category: Books » Harry Potter<br>Author: Kingdark  
>Language: English,<p>

Rating: Rated: M  
>Genre: General, fantasy, sci-fi, adventure<p>

Crossover: There are a few hints of a number of crossovers in this chapter. You get a cookie if you guess which one(s?)  
>Warning: Just like the previous chapter, this chapter has been <strong>heavily<strong> _edited_ since I uploaded the whole thing by **accident**. Take that into account when you reread it. Parts will obviously be the same but many parts will be different as well.

X

Start chapter 2

**Final proof check done on 24/03/2012 - Published on: 2x/03/2012**

Ever since he discovered he liked to experiment with stuff he knew that would be what would keep him amused in the following winter. When he couldn't go outside he could make it a habit to fix broken tools for a low price. His studies were going well and if he could convince his uncle to explain a number of the more technical things to him. The man was after all very knowledgeable in drills and how they worked.

A recent conversation reminded him that his uncle could help him with other items as well. How to manage money for example. Such a thing was best learned early on he knew. One conversation later Harry was a bit smarter in how to manage money. His uncle agreed with Harry's theory that it was best to start as early as possible to learn how to manage your money. The man told him that if he had any technical questions Harry could ask him.

X

Vernon Dursley wasn't a stupid man. Prejudiced yes but not stupid. He felt that he had reasons that justified his prejudice because of a number of things in his youth. The only thing that Vernon knew for sure was that his memory wasn't as good as it had been. But that's a story for another time.

Vernon made sure to teach his nephew the essentials. Where Harry eagerly learned everything that Vernon could teach him, his own son could barely count to ten.

On the day where Harry receives his Hogwarts letter..

Harry had fetched the letters and other mail just like he always did. It was one of the chores he did whenever it was needed. He placed them in neat stacks only to discover that one letter was addressed to him. Harry rarely received any letters. The one time he had gotten one it had been a mistake. The letter was in a language he had never seen before and inquiring in the local post office hadn't helped much. The letter was thrown away in the end. Harry just shrugged at the memory. Maybe this letter was really addressed to him?

Deciding that he could read the mail later, Harry placed the letter on his desk and left. He never noticed the yellowish glow the letter gave off just as he left the room.

At the end of the day, Harry entered his room. The moment he entered he remembered the letter. Hoping that this letter wasn't in a language he had never seen before Harry sliced the envelope open and slid the letter out. The moment that he placed the letter on his desk, something exploded in the house. Harry would have turned around and ran to investigate the noise if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't in his room any more.

X

Five minutes later...

Five minutes passed and Harry reappeared in the room. But he was changed. A lot. Harry had filled out a lot and if any magical folk had been in the area they would have taken a step back in astonishment. Every wizard and witch had a signature. A power signal that any and every witch could sense. The older you got the stronger this sense became. It was a part why magical children went to big schools. It allowed them to get used to many power signals at the same time so they wouldn't be overwhelmed when they met a powerful witch or wizard.

Harry allowed himself a broad smile. He glanced at the clock and confirmed that only five minutes had passed even though it had been five years for him.

"You still didn't belief Bob when he told you that only five minutes would have passed here?" Yoda asked with an amused smile.

Harry shrugged and seemed to look at an invisible spot on his shoulder. "It isn't that simple and you know it." Harry replied easily. Harry considered the curse he had created in the free time during the last five years. Harry had realized that the way his relatives had treated him was unacceptable but now he seemed to lack motivation to cast it.

Harry decided to let it go for now. He closed his eyes to examine the protections outside his home. He had to admit that they were impressive. Not impenetrable but most impressive nevertheless. From what he could see they weren't even at their most powerful either. All of those wards were tied to his health and motivation. They would prevent any -permanent- harm done to him. It certainly hadn't prevented the verbal abuse though.

Harry's skill in the reading of wards wasn't perfect but from what he could tell the wards would crash down if he left with the intent to never return. It didn't matter if he did return in the future. Harry's gut feeling told him that once these came down they couldn't be created again.

But even if he left with the intent to return eventually, the wards would begin to weaken immediately. He would need to return for at least a month a year.

'No.' Harry decided. 'I won't be coming back any time soon. Not on my own power at least.'

The protection that it offered was a lot though. It would do nicely in a pinch. Besides, it would no doubt cause a lot of trouble if that much defensive magic collapsed on its own. The non magical's here had no protections against it.

Harry wondered absently if he could let the existence of magic slip into their community. Hundreds of worlds lived peacefully together. Magical and non magical. "_That is not for me to decide."_ Harry decided.

"Since the wards are tied to me, I should be able to modify them to my needs." Harry reasoned out loud to Yoda. Hearing no protest Harry knew that Yoda agreed with him. Harry charged the wards with his magic until they were at their strongest. He told the wards to not allow any magical folk, items or magical animals near the house and certainly not **in** the house. Any magical items were to be isolated immediately.

Harry decided that this was the best he could do. The wards would last longer then a year now. He could simply charge the wards again when they needed to be recharged and that would be that.

Harry went downstairs when he remembered the loud bang that had occurred just before he had met Bob.

He found the three Dursley's unconscious with no hint they would be waking up any time soon.

Harry decided that he would do one more thing for them. He altered the Dursley's home as if a fight had happened and then alerted the police. Harry Potter would be 'kidnapped' by unknown people who left no evidence.

Harry allowed a brief snicker when he realized that the magical authorities might connect that to a magical culprit. No magical would be able to get near the home. The wards would make sure of that.

Having only one more thing to do, Harry exited the kitchen and went down to the cellar. He had seen a few items that had interested him. They were items from his mum when she was younger.

The last thing he did was taking eleven years of birthday presents from the house. Harry knew where his uncle's 'secret' stash was located and retrieved that from its hiding place after which he hid it again but very sloppily. Any competent police officers would find the box that had held something before it was emptied.

Now that all the important stuff was taken care off, Harry exited the home and walked until he was outside its wards. Harry walked through a dark shadow and never left it. If anyone had been watching they would have dismissed it. When the boy was announced missing it would be weeks before the watcher would remember what he had seen.

Harry had teleported to Diagon Alley to deposit some of the gold he had gathered during his very first dungeon raids. Since Harry was now a -rookie- Dungeon Lord with only his little imp of knowledge Yoda to accompany him he had gathered a lot of the stuff when he first created his very first dungeon.

He had nearly died then too. 'Good times.' Harry had only been taught a few essentials by Bob before the man had died and Harry had been dropped into a dungeon the man had created. It would adapt to his power level.

But that's a story for later.

The bottom line was that he had gathered a lot of gold in those two years. Even though the creatures in a dungeon weren't real, they still appeared to be very realistic. They bled, cried out in pain when they were injured and fought very hard when backed into a corner.

Harry had learned many things in those first two years and if it weren't for that experience he was sure the last three years would have been a **lot** worse. Even if he hadn't gotten anything of value out of that dungeon, the wealth Bob had available to him had been the combined wealth of all the dead dungeon monks combined on top of what the countless Dungeon Lords before him had gathered in their long lives.

Harry didn't want to touch that though. He would need those resources if he wanted to have a chance to get revenge on GEK. Harry absently window shopped while he remembered bits and pieces from first, second, third, fourth and fifth year.

X

What happened in those five years?

The moment his fingers touched the letter Harry felt like he was being pulled into one hell of a roller coaster. It wasn't a painful sensation but it wasn't pleasant either. Harry had closed his eyes on instinct and part of him was sure he had just avoided one hell of a headache.

When Harry felt fairly certain the roller coaster was done with him he cautiously opened his eyes. Harry looked around wildly to try and figure out where he was. The first thing that Harry noted was the fact that he was in a wasteland of some sort. The place looked like it had gone through a war. He could see buildings burning in the distance because of the black smoke. When Harry was done gawking he finally noted an old looking man on the ground.

Harry just stood there, staring at the man for several long moments until he realised that HE had to do something.

Harry approached the man he nicknamed Gandalf -just because- and tried to figure where the man was hurt and if there was anything he could do. Harry had no supplies, no way of contacting the hospital and no medical supplies whatsoever. He was dressed in the second hand clothes he had gotten because of his good grades.

Not knowing any better and hoping the man would wake up he poked him several times. The man's eyes shot open and for a moment it looked like he was about to go in a rage. But that was when he saw Harry and the rage he had felt was gone as quickly as it had come.

"You shouldn't poke a man when he's injured or lying on the ground. You never know where he might have been or what he might have touched." Gandalf advised wisely.

"Isn't that sort of advice reserved for animals and the sort?" Harry couldn't help asking.

The older man laughed but hen grimaced when waves of pain overwhelmed him.

Harry's smile vanished as well. "What happened to you mister?" He asked curiously. How he had gotten there could be solved later. Surely the man wouldn't go right?

"Can I phone the hospital for you?" Harry offered, not knowing what else to ask.

The man seemed to ignore him completely.

"The transfer took more out of me then it should have." Gandalf muttered. He coughed again and this time he coughed up blood.

"Transfer?" Harry repeated. A frown forming. "What do you mean by that? You aren't going to die on me are you mister?"

"No." The man wheezed. "There is still some life in this old body yet. I won't die until I am sure that you know and have mastered the basics of being a Dungeon Lord."

"_This guy is nuts. He's spouting nothing but nonsense. Perhaps it's better that I take my chances and get out of here... But if this guy got me here how do I return?"_ Harry wondered.

The man seemed to brace himself and did... Something that repaired his clothes, removed the blood and healed the injuries enough that they wouldn't start bleeding again.

Gandalf grimaced. "I hate doing that." He complained with a huff.

The man's injuries seemed to have vanished completely. If Harry didn't know any better he would have thought the man had never been injured in the first place.

"Let me introduce myself." Gandalf said to Harry. "You shouldn't give people names unless you know them. It's not polite and I'm certainly not Gandalf."

Harry took a step back in surprise. "How the hell did you know I was calling you that? I never said your name out loud!" Harry demanded.

Gandalf just shrugged. "You'll understand when I'm done with the lesson. A lesson I'm sure you won't ever forget."

"As I was saying my name is Bob. I summoned you here so that I could transfer my rank as a Dungeon Lord to you. This means that I am now a Dungeon Monk and you are a Dungeon Lord. Now normally a Dungeon Lord could command a Dungeon Monk to obey his commands. I don't have much time left because despite appearances I'm dying. I intend to go out with a bang though." Bob shook his head and tried to refocus.

Bob told Harry a brief version of what happened since the war first began. After he had finished Harry didn't feel so well.

"A whole race was killed because this geck guy thinks himself a God?" Harry asked.

'GEK' Bob corrected absently. 'But essentially correct. You are hidden for now. It is very unlikely that GEK will find you. He won't be able to find you even when you begin exploring the multi verse.' Bob told him.

"I'm going to teach you the very essentials, give you a few essential items that will come in handy and then I'm going to drop you into a dungeon I created." Bob told Harry seriously.

"Your goal will be to reach the end. While the monsters won't kill you they will injure you when they get the chance." Bob lectured. Bob spent the next few hours teaching Harry the essentials.

By the end of the day, Bob had taught Harry everything he needed to know.

"I'm going to charge GEK head on. He will think that the Dungeon Lord died and a random person received my power. It should give you the time to get stronger. You will hold the last key to the sealed vault. You and your rival. I don't know who it is but it'll be a girl. Don't make this girl an enemy. You'll need every ally you can get. Yoda will be your best friend. He knows everything the dungeon monks and lords knew. He will be able to teach you whatever you wish as long you won't kill yourself doing so." Bob wheezed.

"You won't be seeing me again. Choose wisely when you share your spark. You should only choose people you know are loyal to you. Don't rely on the fact that dungeon monks have to obey your orders." Bob advised.

'Goodbye.'

Before Harry could say anything he vanished from the wasteland and appeared in another.

He found himself in different clothes along with several weapons, scrolls and a few items he recognized as a cell phone and a compass among other items.

A ball of light appeared out of nowhere and slowly formed itself into the form of an Imp. "Greetings Master Harry. My name is Yoda. I will be able to help you with everything you need to know." The imp glanced in several directions. "Bob made sure to give you some time to prepare but we shouldn't assume we are safe. Let's find a place that's easy to defend shall we?" Yoda suggested.

Harry was too stunned to respond and allowed Yoda to take charge.

X

Harry allowed himself another smile. He had been confused and overwhelmed. It was thanks to Yoda that he learned that everything could have a rank of sort. He still remembered when he thought he was great at some things only to realize he was not even close to the lowest rank.

_Novice_

_apprentice_

_adept_

_expert_

_master_

X

Yoda had recommended to clear the dungeon in two years time. Harry had thought it impossible at the time but he had actually managed to do it. Harry had began to kill monsters for their magical ingredients and for whatever loot they dropped. It had been a very difficult time for him in the beginning but he had adapted.

When he cleared the dungeon he had felt better he remembered feeling in a very long time. He was skilled in at least a few things and he had felt at the top of the world. That was when Bob ruined the image of himself when he showed him a few 'nicer' memories of the enemy he was up against.

X

Third year

Yoda had decided that Harry needed a way to defend himself that didn't rely on his magic. This meant martial arts for the first four months, followed by weapon training in the four months after that and an attempt to combine weapon and martial arts in the last four months of the third year. It would give Harry the tools to kick the ass of simple thugs. He wouldn't have a chance against an experienced martial artist.

Even though Harry worked really hard for the entire third year with only short breaks to let himself recover he didn't get to the level Yoda wanted him to be. Yoda wanted Harry to be competent in several weapons and Harry disagreed. So he focussed on a single weapon instead of several. A wooden staff was the weapon of his choice. It would allow him to knock his enemies out or at least give them some serious bruises. The good thing was that his better skills would hopefully give him the time to either flee or take advantage of the surprise to give himself a much needed edge.

Harry had made his decision on an incorrect assumption. He had assumed that once he knew the basics he could create another place like this where a minute equalled a year in 'real time.'

"Bob was over ten thousand years old and he could only manage five years. What makes you think you could last half a year let alone five?" Yoda had pointed out.

"If you are lucky you could probably last a month. And assuming that you can last a month, the transit takes a lot out of you. On top of that comes the difference between the time that passes here and the time that passes in the real world." Yoda continued.

"You made the decision to focus on a single weapon on a wrong assumption. I suppose I should allow you to make mistakes but remember that the next time you might make a mistake that costs you more then a potential advantage." Yoda lectured.

"It is very likely you won't be able to make a dungeon where a day is a minute let alone a month or even a year. I won't teach the theory until I am sure you have both the power and a sufficient mastery in magical theory."

The fourth year, Yoda taught Harry how to use the few items that Bob had gifted him. The cell phone allowed him to summon merchants that literally sold **anything** if you had the wealth for it. Anything from slaves, to items to information.

Harry used the last year to study. A mature Dungeon Lord would be able to transplant many abilities into himself but Harry was far from that point. At this moment he had only a single gift. He could change his appearance into whatever he wanted as long as it was alive. Fish, bird, insect or human. He could become it after seeing it or touching it. While the latter was preferred just seeing a picture was sufficient as well.

Diagon alley

SUMMER 1991

Seeing Diagon alley for real was as disappointed as reading about it. Harry had read what books he could get through Yoda's knowledge. Diagon alley was the capital of magical Britain. It had the biggest shops and the biggest population as well as the best reputation. Yoda was sitting on his shoulder, hiding as a small kitten. Since Yoda was a construct out of magic he had no trouble changing his form. He didn't want anyone to question Harry talked to him.

Harry and Yoda made their way into the bank to make a deposit. Harry had sold all the extra loot into gold. It would have to last him for as long as he remained in his birth world. Harry was unsure if his parents had left him something and preferred to use that wealth before using the wealth he had gathered in those first two years.

X

Harry entered the bank and picked a random booth. There was no sign or hint if there were different booth for different tasks. It wouldn't be HIS fault if he went to the wrong... Goblin.

Harry approached the booth. Harry frowned when he realized that he wasn't big enough yet. He did not want to attract unwanted attention just yet by casting spells left and right. The problem was solved when the booth adapted itself by raising the floor so he could look into the eye of the goblin behind the booth.

"Yes?" The goblin drawled lazily.

"I would like to know if my parents have left me anything and I wish to deposit some gold I have acquired."

The goblin frowned and looked over his working post to see the oddest human child he had ever seen. He looked like he was only eleven but his... Spirit was actually sixteen.

"And you are?" The goblin asked politely.

"Harry Potter. My name is Harry Potter sir." Harry introduced himself.

"Do you not have your key? It should have been given to you from the moment you could manage your money."

Harry shook his head. "No sir. I only received my Hogwarts letter today. My aunt dropped me off. She doesn't want anything to do with magic if she can help it." This was a lie of course. The only way he would back to that place was to charge the wards. But aside from that...

"Are you aware that it is a hundred galleons fine to recall your key?" The goblin asked Harry.

"Like I said." Harry repeated. "Before today I thought magic didn't exist. So it's pretty safe to assume I know nothing about the magical world at all." Harry repeated.

"If that is the case then you have several options. You could summon the key but it would cost you one hundred galleons. If the... Person that has the key has withdrawn or rather has tried to withdraw money out of your vault it will come out of the person's vault instead as a fine."

"If you don't wish to summon the key you can let the defences of the vault be replaced. This too is a hundred galleons. The vault itself is separated into two parts. One that is sealed until you become seventeen years and the other has enough gold in it to let you buy school supplies and something extra." The goblin explained.

"If that option isn't acceptable, you can hire a new vault and have everything transferred there. Though the same restrictions apply. This is very costly and will drain a third of the total amount of money you have available. If you have any doubts about privacy, don't be. The boots are enchanted to keep everything we talk about private. The air behind you is enchanted to form into a chair if you sit down." The goblin revealed when he noted Harry's hesitation and concluded why instantly.

"I have a... Request that might seem odd. Could you let me examine a single galleon for a moment?"

'Sure.' The goblin agreed. The coin could be taken from the vault if he didn't return it after all.

"This is not a pure golden coin now is it?" Harry asked after giving the coin back to the goblin.

"How did you know?" the goblin asked He saw no point in denying it.

"I have in my pocket a chest filled with golden coins. Pure golden coins. If I exchange them here would I get the equal value in galleons and could I exchange them back later if I wanted to should it come to that without losing too much of their value?"

"Should you exchange your golden coins with our bank you will get the equal amount of value in galleons. How many do you have?" The goblin questioned.

'Two million golden coins." Harry answered promptly.

If the goblin had been human he would have no doubt look obviously surprised. As it was Harry barely noticed the widening of the eyes and the twitching of the goblin's eyes that hinted at it.

The goblin couldn't decide whether or not to take this or not. Having two million pure golden coins would translate in a _lot_ of galleons. The amount of galleons the boy would receive on top of the significant amount of gold he already had in his vaults would make him a very rich lad. So rich in fact he would be somewhere in the top hundred of the richest magical folk in the world.

There were many other witches and wizards that were richer then him. So much more richer that even all of Harry's money combined would make it look like pocket money.

The goblin shook his head to clear it. He changed the sign from open to closed and jumped from his seat to the other side of his work station. "Please follow me."

Harry shrugged and followed. He never noticed the stares of both goblins and magical folk alike. Who knew a goblin was so acrobatic?

The goblin led him to an empty office. The goblin said a few words in his own language and everything seemed to change before his very eyes.

"Before we talk about anything, I'm afraid I need proof. A single golden coin would be sufficient." The goblin told Harry.

"That's fine. It can't be easy taking an eleven year old seriously." The boy agreed.

He took the shrunken trunks from his pocket and put it on the ground. He muttered the activation code which caused it to return to normal. Harry then opened the trunk and grabbed a handful of coins then dropped them on the desk.

"That evidence enough for you?" Harry questioned.

"Yes it is." The goblin agreed. "You must be curious why I haven't introduced myself right?"

"Not really." Harry admitted. "I just thought you were ru-" The boy cut himself off and ended his last word in a cough.

"Excuse me, my tongue tends to act before my brain kicks in." Harry apologized quickly. Inwardly he smirked. His apparent age would make people underestimate him. Not only that but it would allow him to make blunders an older teenage wasn't allowed to have.

The goblin appeared to ignore his mix up in favour of giving a short lecture.

"Sharing a name with another goblin hints at wanting a business relationship. A business relationship is equal to that of an alliance at least in our culture." The goblin lectured. "Sharing my name with a you would cause a lot of trouble for myself and you as well." The goblin continued.

"However, I did not get the rank where I am today because I'm an idiot." The goblin told Harry bluntly.

"Each goblin has a private and a public name. Even the public name is rarely shared unless the potential for a business contract is there. You don't know me and I don't know you. Even if we did know each other a little better from regular visits you are still a boy of eleven year old. However... I have something of an instinct when it comes to making good business partners and I have a feeling you and I can have a very good relationship. I shall share my public name if you agree to sign a very basic chapter that you will not mention my public name in public if you can help it. The penalty would be a fifty galleon fine."

Ten minutes later and the contract was signed.

"My name is Killua. Killua Zoldyck. Nice to meet you." The goblin introduced himself.

"I'm sure you already know this but I'm Harry Potter." Harry introduced himself formally.

"Now that we have this out of the way, let us get down to business. Two million golden coins will translate in a LOT of galleons for you. It won't make you the richest wizard in the world but it will place you somewhere in the top hundred world wide. I cannot say where because I don't know. I just know the numbers of first and last place.

"How many do I have already?" Harry wanted to know.

"Three. You have your personal vault which was meant to last you from the moment you were old enough to talk and walk until your seventeenth birthday. The gold within this vault was meant to practice investing. Since there has been no activity it only received interest so it's monetary value has only increased. The second vault you own was meant to pay for your schooling, school items and a few items on the side.

The third vault is the combined vault of your parents. It holds the majority of their possessions that we were hired to retrieve and deposit into their vault by a family friend. Unfortunately many items had already been looted by scum" Killua explained.

"Can you retrieve those items that were... Taken from my old home?" Harry asked calmly.

"I suppose so." The goblin agreed. Harry just smirked.

"Do what is needed to find out as many owners as you can manage. Then give them subtle hints that someone is looking to purchase their items without a concern for price. Finally, warn the potential sellers that there will be others to sell to me besides themselves... Once they are in one location I want to do whatever is required to sue them. They have taken items from my old home." Harry said harshly.

"I want to sue them out of a home, job to the point they don't have anything left." Harry growled. Then his mood did a complete turn around.

"You can do that can't you?" Harry asked with a bright smile.

Killua was obviously freaked out about the turn of mood. "You do realize that doing that will be very expensive not to mention that the chance of success is very low considering current ministry policies concerning the old families.

"I'll be blunt then. Since we are in a business relationship, does that mean that you can't reveal my secrets should I tell you any?"

"Unless they threaten our bank or our race then no." Killua admitted.

"Alright." Harry nodded. "Those two million golden coins I have here? That's small change to what I could give you." Harry informed the goblin coldly.

"I don't care what it costs. I don't care what will have to happen. They stole from my family and unless they have one HELL of a reason to loot the home of the one they proclaim as their saviour then I want them to PAY for stealing from my home." Harry finished viscously."

"Then this would be a bad time to inform you that your former home has been declared a national monument?"

Harry blinked several times, he had not expected that.

"What about my parent's graves?"

"Their location has been warded. We do not know where they were buried." Killua admitted.

"Find out." Harry ordered. "I am the last of my family, I have the RIGHT to visit my parents and give them my respect. I have the RIGHT to sue those bastards that stole from my family. More importantly: I have the right to hire a team of experts to break whatever wards they put up at my old home and put new ones in their place."

Killua had thought that his age made it unlikely for him to become surprised, shock or shocked into speechlessness. He should have known better. This child was more different then anyone could have imagined.

"Very well. I shall do as you ask." The goblin agreed formally.

"Which takes me to one other item we need to discuss. There is another -fourth- vault that you might get access too. The owner is currently in prison and hasn't been given a trial. This is very odd because that is a requirement by law. This hints at a cover up. The owner has said that you are to inherit everything he owns should he die... Obviously he hasn't died just yet so for now you can't access the vault unless the owner dies."

The only thing that Mr Black did was disinheriting a number of old family members. Since they are in prison now for committing horrible crimes it means their gold was considered forfeit since they **were** given a trial.

"Alright then." Harry decided.

"This is what I want you to do: I want to hire a new vault. All the gold that I currently touch will be transferred in that vault. The vault that I have and don't own the key... Just let it be and let the current illegal owner of the key come here. Tell me who it is and tell them that I will sue them as well if I am not given a good reason as to why they had it in the first place."

Killua was nodding when it occurred to him that he had sort of forgotten his client's age.

"There is one issue that I sort off forgot about... You are only eleven. Few people are going to take an eleven year old seriously."

"Don't worry about that." Harry assured. "I have a very reliable person that I trust with my life to do it for me. And since I am the last of the Potters, I am an anticipated minor."

That concluded their business and Harry left the office of Killua to re-enter the alley. He had still some shopping to do. Killua had given him a check book that would allow any store keeper to cash it in at the bank.

X  
>End Chapter<br>X

Next time we'll see Harry arrive in Hogwarts. I have one chapter finished after this one. But before I publish that (chapter three) I will first write chapter four.


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